


I Know I'm Better Off Alone (But That Doesn't Mean It Doesn't Hurt)

by Giveemhale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale & Scott McCall are Both Alphas, Hale-McCall Pack, M/M, Miscommunication, Mostly focused on stiles, Pack Dynamics, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, The Pack Being Idiots, but there will be Sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giveemhale/pseuds/Giveemhale
Summary: When Allison is injured after Stiles got the wrong info about the big bad of the week, Scott kicks him out of the pack.Scott doesn't know the world of pain he's about to put Stiles through, but Stiles does.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 219
Kudos: 1301





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just some background info I may or may not take the time to incorporate in this story: this takes place during their senior year. Basically anything that happened after season 2 can be ignored. Everyone is alive and currently part of the same pack. Cora is in South America, but Derek knows she's alive, and Peter just kind of comes and goes as he pleases. I kind of made up how I imagine pack dynamics work in this universe, but everything should be explained. If anything is confusing, please let me know! This is basically a mash up of my favorite tropes in the fandom, but I hope it still turns out original. Enjoy!

“She got hurt because you got the wrong information!” Scott yelled at Stiles as soon as they were alone. 

Stiles and Scott were standing outside of Scott’s guest room, where Melissa was tending to an unconscious Allison.

It had all started a couple days prior, when a dead body had appeared in the preserve, having been viciously torn apart, most of the flesh gone. It was the second corpse found that week, and the pack had realized that this was likely more than just a wild animal or creature passing through. This was confirmed when Erica and Boyd were tasked with investigating (they rotated this job every time there was a new threat, since no one particularly enjoyed dealing with dead bodies (Stiles didn’t even want to get into how fucked up it was that he and his friends had a schedule for dealing with death, and they were only in high school)) and said they could smell a supernatural creature on the body, although they had been unable to identify it. The pack had to deal with whatever it was if they didn’t want anymore deaths. Stiles had done what research he could with the bestiary, the internet, and police reports that may may or may not have been obtained illegally from his dad's computer, and they made a rushed and haphazard plan of attack, as they usually did. For the most part, these plans usually worked out, but injuries were to be expected. However, this was the first time Allison had been knocked unconscious, and Scott was always irrational when it came to her. 

Stiles stared at Scott incredulously. “Are you seriously blaming me for this?”

“Obviously! If you had gotten the correct information, we would have been prepared. Allison wouldn’t have been hiding in the tree because we would have known we were dealing with a creature that could fly, and she would be fine right now!”

Stiles was used to Scott being hot-headed when it came to his on-again, off-again girlfriend of the past two years, but for the most, Stiles usually avoided Scott’s wrath. If anything, when it came to Allison, Stiles would be lucky if Scott remembered to pay him any attention at all, but he would have preferred that negligence at that moment.

“First off, Allison is going to be fine. She’s handled worse than a bite to the shoulder,” that was the wrong thing to say, if Scott’s answering growl was anything to go by, but Stiles carried on, “Second, you gave me less than 48 hours to research, and I still have school. I worked with what I had, and all of the victims appeared to be in similar conditions as when we dealt with wendigos. It was not unreasonable to assume there would be more of them. And it’s not like I had that much to work with other than prior experience. Do you know how rare a Harpy is? Actually, do you know how hard it is to research creatures most of the world believe are fictional? You shouldn’t expect me to be able to get it right every time!”

“Actually, I do expect you to get it right, since that’s literally all you're good for.”

Stiles felt like he had been slapped. He swore he saw regret flash through Scott’s face, but it was gone so quickly that it might have been wishful thinking. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Stiles managed to ground out. 

“I’m talking about the fact that your only use for the pack is that you are able to help with research, and you fuck that up half the time anyway,” that was definitely an exaggeration, but Stiles didn’t get a chance to intervene, “you contribute nothing to this pack. You don’t have the fighting skills the rest of us have and are always getting us into trouble. If you can’t even figure out what is attacking us, then you’re a liability at best.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, you’ve become such a dick since you were bitten.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Stiles gaped. “Oh my god. Are you seriously still blaming me for that? You didn’t have to follow me into the woods that night, and I’m certainly not the one who bit you. Most importantly, you need to stop resenting your wolf. It’s been two years! You’re never going to be a good alpha if you can’t accept who you are.”

Scott’s eyes flashed red. “I am a good alpha,” he paused. “Yeah. I’m a good alpha and that’s why I’m kicking you out of the pack.”

Stiles was so shocked that he let out a startled laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

Stiles could see as Scott’s resolve hardened. “I am. You put a pack member at risk and I will not let this continue.”

“Wow. Over a decade of friendship down the drain because your girlfriend got hurt.”

Scott actually had the audacity to roll his eyes. “It’s not like we can’t be friends or whatever. I’m just no longer letting you jeopardize my pack.” 

Stiles glossed over the “my pack” statement, even though it hurt. “God, you clearly know nothing about pack dynamics if you think you can just kick someone out and then remain friends with them. But that’s fine, lucky for you, I’ll be able to keep your sorry ass informed, not that you deserve my help, because I’m not leaving. Because the pack isn’t ruled by a dictatorship, you can’t just do whatever the fuck you want without discussion.”

A smirk appeared on Scott’s face, and it looked downright evil. Stiles has never been on the receiving end of that look from Scott (didn’t even realize that was a look he could make), and he couldn’t help the shiver that rolled through him. “And who, exactly, do you think is going to defend you? Let’s review. Erica’s once hit you over the head with a carburetor and never really felt bad about it. Boyd doesn’t talk to you. Isaac thinks you’re a dumbass. Lydia has ignored you for years. Jackson... Do I even need to say anything about him? And after what you caused tonight, I’m sure Allison won’t be wanting to see you at all. The pack doesn’t like you. They all think you’re annoying and weak. The only reason that you’re still part of it, and joined it in the first place, is because of me.”

And that really hurt. It hurt because Stiles didn’t disagree. He knew most of the pack didn’t like him. But he was stubborn and wouldn’t be deterred. Stiles knew how pack dynamics and politics worked. After the McCall pack had set up some traps to handle a rogue omega, and Jackson had been the unwitting victim of a hidden net (and Stiles had almost been the victim of Jackson’s vicious retaliation when Stiles had been laughing too hard to be able to get him down, but luckily Scott arrived before any damage could be done) it had been clear things needed to change. What would happen when it wasn’t a net, but something deadly? Stiles had been the one to suggest the Hale and McCall pack combine to avoid any future cases of miscommunication, and had done loads of research to oversee the joining and to make sure that things went as smoothly as possible. Alpha males tended to clash, but Stiles had laid out clear rules on how their pack would function to avoid inner-pack conflict, and he wasn’t going to let Scott ignore those rules just because he was angry. 

“I know the pack aren’t my biggest fans. I know I annoy them. But that doesn’t mean they want me gone. And even if they wouldn’t defend me, you’re still not the only alpha. Derek is also alpha of the pack, and part of the agreement when the packs joined was that both alphas get a say in all decisions.”

Scott actually laughed at this point, and it sounded cruel and bitter, nothing like the laugh of the boy Stiles grew up with. “Derek? You think Derek wants you in the pack? Derek who slammed your head into a steering wheel? Who threatened to kill you on multiple occasions? Who shoves you into walls and growls at you? He doesn’t want you in the pack! He’ll be thrilled at the prospect of you leaving, I don’t even have to ask. He hates you!”

Stiles and Derek had been getting along better than they used to, and at this point Stiles would even go as to say they were friends, but he couldn’t help but worry that Scott was right. Besides the fact that Scott’s werewolf senses gave him a pretty good idea on how others felt (not that that made him anymore emotionally intelligent, as was clear at the moment), Stiles’ own human senses didn’t indicate that anything Scott was saying was wrong. It’s not like Derek ever treated him like a friend, or said thank you for the work Stiles did (including saving his life on multiple occasions), or apologized for the times he did hurt him. Stiles always chalked that up to Derek’s inability (or unwillingness) to express emotions and effectively communicate like a functional human being (which wasn’t that unreasonable considering the amount of tragedy he’d faced in his lifetime), but Stiles did still have his fears that the glares may not have been his default, but rather something personal. When he thought about it too long, it really only made sense that Derek tolerated him to build a better relationship with Scott. Afterall, the packs would never have been willing to join forces to protect Beacon Hills if it wasn’t for Stiles. Derek was a selfless idiot, and he certainly wouldn’t be above playing nice with an obnoxious teenager if it meant his pack and territory was safer. What reason did Stiles have to think that Derek had any genuine positive feelings about him? About Stiles as a person, and not just as a means to an end? 

Stiles didn’t want to get into why that thought hurt so much. 

Scott seemed to have noticed how much he hurt his friend, and let out a long sigh, like he was a tired single mom with a difficult child instead of an emotionally insensitive asshole of a best friend. “Look, I know all of this is hard to hear. But this is what’s best. The rest of the pack doesn’t want you around, I’ve realized that you’re a liability, and this way you’ll be safer. It could have just as easily been you who was injured tonight. This is a win-win-win situation.”

Stiles scoffed. He couldn’t believe how much of an asshole Scott was being. “Fine. Please tell the rest of the pack how sorry I am that I burdened them with my presence for so long. I hope you have a lot of fun telling them you got rid of the nuisance, maybe you can all celebrate together. Who knows, maybe Derek will finally crack a smile, maybe the two of you can finally be friends now that you aren’t saddled with your weak and annoying best friend. The two of you can host a party like the wonderful alphas you are.You guys can hang banners that say “Fuck Stiles” and make a bonfire out of the countless pages of research that I did for your pack, that apparently was never appreciated.”

Scott tried to interrupt, but Stiles wouldn’t let him. “But if this is what you and the pack choose to do, don’t expect anything from me. Don’t expect me to be okay with this, and don’t expect me to save your ass the next time a new unknown creature attacks. Because I’m done. I have been looking out for you for as long as I’ve known you, when you were just a kid with asthma too shy to even talk to girls, and I helped you through all of this supernatural bullshit without asking for anything in return even when it almost got me killed. And I did it because I thought you would do the same for me, or at the very least that you would appreciate it. I did it because I thought we were brothers. But now I see how wrong I was. I don’t want you to ever ask me for anything ever again, because I’m done doing shit for you, only to be shit on in return. In fact, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t even think about me. I’m done. Extend that message to your pack too. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled they no longer have to put up with me.” With that, Stiles turned on his heel and quickly walked away, down the hall and towards the front door. 

“You’re being dramatic,” Scott called after him. 

Stiles flipped him off. 

Stiles didn’t care if he was being dramatic, he didn’t care if he was being immature. He deserved to be. He’d had to grow up way too fast, for people who didn’t give a damn about him, and he would have a goddamn temper tantrum now if he wanted to. 

Still, he couldn't help but hope that maybe Scott was wrong, that maybe the pack would come to his defense and Scott would realize he was wrong.

But it's not like hope ever got him anywhere before. Deep down he knew, this time wouldn't be any different.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda rushed to get this out because the comments and reactions made me so happy. Sorry it's a bit short, I was just eager to share.  
> By the way, there's some stuff about pack dynamics and politics in this fic that are completely made up by me, so just don't question it.

Stiles woke up sore, his whole body aching. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised, since he’d had to fight off a Harpy the night before. He was pretty sure he had ran at least a mile, and he’d had to have his shoulder fixed by Melissa after he had dislocated it when he had fallen from a tree he’d climbed to try to reach the Harpy (trying to attack a creature that can fly while armed with nothing more than a baseball bat was even harder than one might think). 

But he was used to the pain that came after a night defending the preserve. He was used to feeling exhausted just at the thought of getting out of bed after only a couple hours of restless sleep. To getting up on wobbly legs and having to be careful when getting dressed so as not to irritate any new or old wounds. He was used to clutching onto the counter when he brushed his teeth, keeping himself standing out of sheer force of will because if he collapsed he knew his dad would hear the thud. The look on his dad’s face when he realized Stiles’ was once again injured, and that he was likely lying about what he did when he wasn’t home, was usually even more painful than the injury itself. 

That was what happened when you were in a werewolf pack without the benefit of werewolf healing, trying to protect a town that was essentially a beacon to all evil supernatural creatures. 

What he wasn’t used to was the pure dread he felt at the thought of going to school. Sure, he hated high school as much as any teenager, but he usually at least looked forward to seeing his pack members, no matter how physically exhausted he was (especially since he could usually guilt them into being nice to him if he was injured (well, if it was a pack related injury- any other injury resulted in endless mocking from Jackson)). Today, though, he wasn’t even sure if he had a pack. 

Stiles would go to school and see if Scott was more clear-headed (and less of a dick) after a night of rest, but he wouldn’t argue with him. Stiles would not stay where he wasn’t wanted. He may be human, but he was strong enough to face the world alone, and he was ready to prove that.

(He just really hoped he wouldn’t have to).

~~~

Stiles arrived to school just a few minutes before the bell rang, so he wouldn’t have to worry about having to hold a conversation with any of the pack, but would still be able to have a quick chat with Scott.

He skipped retrieving anything from his locker to ensure he wouldn’t miss Scott, who he knew always stopped at his locker right before the bell rang.

When he reached Scott, instead of the usual friendly greeting they exchanged, they both kept a blank face. Stiles was going for an air of nonchalance, and Scott just looked smug.   
So, not off to a great start. 

“So have you gotten your head out of your ass, or are you still sticking with turning against your best friend of over a decade?”

Scott just rolled his eyes, and it reminded Stiles of how ignorant he was about how packs worked and what it took to be a good alpha. “If you’re asking if I’m letting you back in the pack, the answer is still no. If you’re asking if I’m turning against my best friend, then the answer is still no, because you’re the one doing that. You’re too childish to handle me being a responsible alpha and are throwing away our friendship because you can’t get your way.”

It was honestly baffling just how little Scott knew about werewolf dynamics even after being one for two years, and an alpha at that. He clearly didn’t understand that a pack member could not be kicked out but stay affiliated. The pain would be too intense, and the lingering sting of rejection and stark pain of loneliness would slowly drive the member insane. Most omegas only went feral because they were unable to accept the loss of their pack, and having to be near the ex-pack would make acceptance near impossible. It’s why omegas always went rogue, their instincts compelling them to get as far away from their previous territory as possible. Unfortunately, still being in high school, Stiles wouldn’t be able to run from the pain, the best he could do would be to try to avoid it. It didn’t matter that Stiles was human, he was still bonded just as the rest of them were and could still feel that pain. He just wouldn’t have a wolf to take over if it got to be too much.

Stiles scoffed. “Fine. Guess I’ll just go be a child on my own. I stand by what I said last night. You can tell the rest of the pack to stay away from me, because I’ll be doing my damnedest to stay away from all of you. Since that’s what’s supposed to happen when someone is kicked out of a pack, but you don’t actually know anything about werewolves so I guess I’ll have to inform you myself, as always.”

Scott rolled his eyes, still clearly not believing a word Stiles said. Stiles wasn’t even sure if he was really listening. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

They continued to glare at each other until the bell rang, and they went their separate ways.

~~~

Unsurprisingly, classes were a bit awkward. Stiles was grateful that no one in the pack was in his first period, but that was not the case for his second period. Lydia, Allison, Erica, and Boyd all had that class with him. Usually they sat together near the back (they’ve learned to never sit together near the front, as they far too often delve into discussions about the latest supernatural threats in the middle of lectures).

Stiles arrived to class earlier than usual (most days he would linger in the hall for a bit to talk to Scott), which meant he was able to get a seat in the front row, one that already had the seats surrounding it filled. He nabbed it right before the girl who usually sat there arrived, and was too tired to even pretend to care when she glared at him.

Lydia, Erica, and Boyd trickled in shortly before the bell rang. He could feel them all looking at him weirdly, but resolutely ignored them, glad that the teacher started talking before they could try to approach him.

His heart sank when he noticed that Allison was nowhere to be found, but reminded himself that she was fine and what happened wasn’t his fault. She would just need a day to rest to help with her recovery, and Stiles blaming himself just because Scott filled his mind with negative thoughts wouldn’t help anybody.

The whole class was a blur, and Stiles couldn’t tell you a single thing the teacher had said if you had paid him, due both to the full body ache and the prickling feeling on the back of his neck from his friends’ stares. 

Stiles rushed out of class before the bell had even finished ringing, not wanting to have a chance encounter with the pack. As he left, he made brief eye contact with Lydia and saw the way her eyebrows furrowed. If Lydia was confused, then that definitely meant she didn't have all of the information. 

The only member of the pack in his third period was Jackson, and they only sat together when one of them had something to tell the other, so it was easy to sit on his own without raising any questions. 

Stiles thought back to the confused looks of the pack, and knew that Scott must not have told them about his decision yet. It made sense, Scott would probably want to wait until the pack was all together to make his announcement, and he couldn’t exactly pull them all out of class.

Stiles figured that once the pack knew, they would either remove him completely from his life, carrying on their merry way as if he was just another stranger at their school, or they would defy Scott to try to keep him around. Stiles knew he had asked for the first one, and it was honestly what he expected, but he couldn’t help but hope for the latter. 

At lunch, Stiles decided to just go to the library instead of the cafeteria. He didn’t want to see Scott, and refused to approach the pack on his own, both out of fear of rejection (not that he’d ever admit it) and not wanting to sway their decision. It was up to them what happened after they found out about what Scott had done. Either they would ignore Scott’s orders and keep him included (and ideally get Derek to talk some sense into Scott), or they would confirm Stiles’ fears and Scott’s accusations that they really did just see him as an annoying and disposable human. He figured if they felt that way, there was no reason for him to even want to stay in the pack, considering that meant it was full of people who didn’t even like him, so there would be no reason for him to try to change their minds or guilt them into letting him stay. At least if that was the case, he wouldn’t have to worry about being a burden.

Stiles grabbed a pop-tart from a vending machine to snack on as he headed to the library. He hadn’t thought to pack his lunch since he always ate in the cafeteria, but he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry anyway.

Stiles couldn’t help but feel nauseous, the way he felt when he was waiting to get a grade back on a test he was pretty sure he failed but was still hoping for good results. He wondered if Scott would tell them at lunch, or wait until they had an official pack meeting. Would he set one up for after school? Would anyone bother to tell him, or would they just assume Scott would? Would they even notice if he didn’t show up? 

It didn’t matter. Stiles reminded himself once again that what happened was up to the pack, he would not grovel to be part of a pack that didn’t even like or appreciate him (so what if it meant losing all of his friends? So what if it meant losing the family he would die for? So what if it would validate every insecurity and fear that had plagued him for the last two years? So what if it would mean losing the most consistent and meaningful thing in his life? So what.). 

Stiles could feel himself going down a dark path, and hurried to distract himself. He sat down at one of the free tables in the library and pulled out the most recent book that Deaton had loaned to him, as he always read up on the supernatural in his free time to help the pack prepare for whatever big bad would come next.

It was a punch to the gut when Stiles realized he couldn’t even have that now, because at least for the time being, he would not be involved in any supernatural cases. Whether or not Scott realized it, Stiles no longer had any authority over the territory if he was no longer part of the pack, and would need special permission if he were to attempt to intervene in supernatural happenings (although he was probably the only one even aware of the rule). He had no plans of asking the pack for anything, and especially not for permission, so he would have to remove himself as much as possible from the supernatural for now. 

Stiles put the book back in his backpack before he had even opened it.

Stiles pushed away the pop-tart, what little hunger he had disappearing, and stared blankly at the table. He had dedicated his life to the supernatural. Now he had nothing to do and no one to talk to, and had to sit with the knowledge that it was highly likely this would become permanent.

For all the planning and strategizing that Stiles had been doing and perfecting for years, he had no idea what to do now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor stiles :(
> 
> The next chapter will probably take longer to get out, but I'm already working on it. 
> 
> Kudos and comments feed my soul.
> 
> Also if anyone ever wants to talk, my tumblr is @fanficmakesmehappy, where I mostly reblog teen wolf and marvel nonsense and sometimes make moodboards.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack reacts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly meant for this to be longer but I wanted this posted within the week so here's what I got.  
> Prepare for lots of angst

The dread Stiles had felt the day before was nothing compared to what he felt when he woke up the next morning. His physical pain from the encounter with the Harpy had dampened, but his fear had only amplified. He knew that Scott must have told the pack by now, meaning today would be when he either would be welcomed back into the pack, or officially severed off. 

Regardless of his anxiety, he got ready for school, even if it took him longer than usual to get out of bed. He knew that going to school was the only way he would find out what his fate was (and he also knew that his dad wouldn’t put up with truancy). There was no use putting off the inevitable.

Stiles once again arrived to school with only a couple of minutes to spare, but this time made sure to avoid passing Scott in the halls.

Even if yesterday he had been glad that there were no pack members in his first period, today it felt like torture. He was filled with nervous energy. His leg bounced the whole period and he tapped his pencil to the point the teacher had to ask him to stop.

Walking to second period, he felt like a murder suspect awaiting the jury's verdict (and honestly, with the extent the pack affected his life, he didn't feel like he was even being dramatic).

He had a bit of a crisis when deciding where to sit, but ultimately sat where he had the day before. He figured the pack could approach him if they wanted to, and he didn’t want to be stuck near them if they rejected him.

Stiles tensed when he noticed Erica enter, with Boyd at her side and Lydia a few feet behind, Allison still missing. Neither Erica nor Boyd spared him a look. Lydia gave him a shrewd, calculating look, but also made no attempt to approach him.

Stiles felt his heart sink. So that was it. The pack had made their decision. Based on the way they were acting, Scott must have told them that he was no longer pack. He wondered if they were avoiding him because he had said he wanted no contact, or because they had only been tolerating him thus far out of respect for their alpha. Either way, it was clear they had no intention of fighting for him. 

Scott had been right. They didn’t care about him, they had decided they didn’t need him (had they ever?). He couldn’t help but wonder if it was something he had done, or if they had always felt this way. Were they also mad about Allison? Or had they all just been desperately waiting for a reason to see him gone? How long had Stiles been making a fool of himself, thinking he was friends with people who couldn’t even stand to be around him? 

Stiles felt like such an idiot, because the pain in his chest made him realize just how much he had been holding onto the hope that they would defend him. Even if this was what he had expected, he hadn’t been prepared for the feeling of hurt and betrayal.

Stiles dug his nails into his palm, hoping to keep the tears at bay. He wondered if Erica and Boyd could smell his misery or the saltiness of his tears welling up. He desperately hoped not. He didn’t want to prove them right. He wasn’t weak, he was strong. 

This was their loss, not his. He was the only one who was willing to do research each and every time there was a new threat. He was the only one who had access to police records. He was the only one who came up with strategy that actually worked (most of the time). He was the only one who was able to hold the pack together. 

But he knew those words of comfort he was telling himself were a load of bullshit. Because if it was their loss, why did it feel like he had just lost everything?

~~~

The day passed much the same, although Stiles barely noticed. The pack avoided him, just as he avoided them. He once again ate lunch in the library, but this time just worked on homework. Sixth period was the worst, it was the only class he shared with Scott (he remembered how much they had both complained at the beginning of the semester when they realized they had only one class together, but Stiles now counted it as a blessing). He could hear other classmates whispering about how weird it was that this was the second day in a row Stiles and Scott, inseparable for years, weren’t sitting with each other. All Stiles could do was keep his head down. It’s not like he cared about any of their opinions anyway. What self-confidence he had held had been effectively crushed this morning when he had found out that none of his so-called friends actually gave a shit about him.

When the final bell of the day finally rang, Stiles sighed in relief. Unfortunately, as he approached the school exit, he remembered that he was supposed to have lacrosse practice. He groaned and turned around. Finstock was always on his ass about something or other, and he would just use a missed practice as justification to single him out once again, probably making him run suicides only to bench him for the next game as always.

As he walked back towards the locker room, he paused, realization dawning on him. 

Stiles hated lacrosse. He hated the running and the hormonal boys using it to take out their aggression. He hated that he was always being put on the sidelines, because, just like in the rest of his life, he wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, good enough. 

The only reason he had joined was to support Scott, and the only reason he stayed on the team was because he liked spending time with his pack members (...sometimes), and to make his father proud. But his father rarely had time to attend his games (and rarely had a reason to, since Stiles was usually benched), and he no longer even had any pack members. In fact, seeing said pack members would only bring him pain.

Stiles almost laughed, it was such an obvious choice. There was no reason for him to stay on the team. A small part of him considered staying just to show the pack he was strong, but he knew he’d just be hurting himself. It wasn’t them who would have to deal with the sting of rejection every time they saw him. If anything, they’d probably find it amusing getting to watch his isolation. It would be like how things were before the pack, with Jackson and the team always choosing him as the butt of the joke, but now Scott would be on the other side, and Stiles would be completely alone. 

Yeah, Stiles could definitely do without all that. 

He quickened his pace as he approached the gym, both because he wanted to make sure to arrive before practice started, and because he was actually excited at the prospect of getting to quit. In fact, it was the first positive emotion he had felt all day, and wasn’t that just depressing. 

When Stiles made it to the locker room, his first instinct was to put his head down, but he didn’t want any of the pack to think they had gotten to him, so he held his head high and walked past the changing team, into Finstock’s office, managing to avoid eye contact with any of the players on his way.

Stiles knocked on the door but didn’t bother waiting for a response, entering and shutting the door behind him. 

Finstock was staring at his computer screen when Stiles entered. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow when he saw Stiles. 

“Bilinski! What are you doing? You better get ready for practice now if you don’t want to be running laps the rest of the season!” He snapped, and Stiles couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was so predictable. 

“Actually, coach, I'm not here for practice. I'm here to tell you I’m quitting the team. It won’t make much of a difference since I’m always on the bench anyway, but I don’t need you yelling at me in class tomorrow for missing practice, so I figured I should let you know.”

Stiles was shocked to see Finstock’s face actually soften at that. He was pretty sure Finstock had never looked at him with anything other than contempt and annoyance. 

“Stiles,” he said, and Stiles couldn’t help but be surprised that Finstock knew his name, although he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved to know that Finstock actually knew his name wasn’t Bilinski or annoyed to realize that this meant he had purposefully been screwing with him throughout his entire high school career, “I’ve noticed that you’ve been more withdrawn in class this week. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to finally have some peace and quiet, but… I’m worried about you. Now that you’re quitting the team, well, things must be bad. So, you’re welcome to stay on the team, but I won’t bother trying to pressure you. I just want you to know that if you ever need somebody to talk to, my door is always open, and the counselors are always available, too. You’re not alone.”  
Stiles was horrified to feel tears rise to his eyes, but he was quick to suppress them. He was just so shocked to have Finstock of all people show actual care for his well-being. It honestly felt nice, knowing that not everyone completely despised him, but it was also a reminder of just how far he had fallen in such a short amount of time. If Finstock had noticed, then everyone in the whole school probably knew just how pathetic he was. He wasn’t sure if he could count it as a consolation that he doubted any of them found him as pathetic as he found himself. 

He forced a smile to his face. “Thanks, coach, but I’ll be fine. Only a couple months until graduation, anyway, and then I’ll be taking over the world,” Stiles joked.

Finstock gave him a small smile at that. “I’m sure you will.”

Stiles cleared his throat, not sure how to react to how heartfelt Finstock sounded. He eventually just nodded, and turned around and left. 

As he walked past the team to exit the locker room, he heard somebody shout his name. He turned to see Danny looking at him strangely.

“Where are you going?” he asked, “and why were you willingly talking to Finstock?”

“Well, I’m leaving.”

Danny just looked more confused. “Uh, I can see that. But we have practice.”

“I’m leaving the team,” Stiles clarified. 

Danny looked shocked, but it wasn’t him who spoke up.

“What? What do you mean you’re leaving the team? Why?” 

Stiles was shocked to see it was Isaac asking the questions, looking both hurt and confused, but that might have just been wishful thinking by Stiles. He looked to the left and saw that Jackson also looked confused. Scott was turned around, seemingly staring intently at the inside of his locker.

Stiles hoped Scott was avoiding looking at him out of guilt, but he had no idea what warranted the reactions of Isaac and Jackson. The pack should have realized he would need to leave the team. He made it clear that he didn’t want to see any of the pack, and that would be impossible to avoid if he stayed on the team, seeing as there were three pack members. They had avoided him all day, what did it matter to them if that continued after school?

In their defense, it hadn’t occurred to Stiles until that afternoon that leaving the pack made leaving lacrosse the best choice. They probably thought he was stubborn enough to stay on the team out of spite. Like Scott, they clearly didn’t understand how painful being around pack was for a rejected member. It was bearable now, but would only become worse with time. It was better to cut off contact early on. 

“Well, I’m doing what’s best for me. No point staying where I’m not wanted.” 

He maintained eye contact with Isaac when he said it, sure it was clear he wasn’t just talking about the team.

“Aw, man, don’t say that, of course you’re wanted here,” Danny said, reminding Stiles that most of the people present knew nothing about the existence of the pack.

Stiles smiled awkwardly. “Thanks, man, but it’s abundantly clear I’m not. Actually, looking back, it has been for awhile. But that’s okay, it’s also becoming clear there was never a reason to want to stay, anyway.” 

With that, he exited the locker room, and refused to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments make me so happy! Please let me know your thoughts  
> Also, I thought this fic was going to be like 10k, 5 chapters. But I keep getting more ideas, so it's looking like it's going to be quite a bit longer...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this chapter is basically just explaining how pack bonds work. Hopefully it's not too boring, and please feel free to comment if anything needs clarification!

When Stiles got home after quitting lacrosse, there was a dull ache in his head, feeling like there was a tight band squeezing around his skull.

Stiles popped some Advil, and then lay in bed. His dad was at work and he had already done all of his homework during lunch. Without lacrosse or any friends, there really wasn’t much to do now.

He decided to take a nap, unable to think of anything better to do, and hoped sleep would quiet the many negative thoughts in his head.

He ended up sleeping longer than intended, and when he woke back up, it was dark outside. He checked his phone and was unsurprised to see no notifications. He honestly wasn’t sure if his dad was home, but he was too afraid to check. Even though he was hungry after missing dinner, the thought of running into his dad and being asked how his day was made him nauseous enough to ignore his appetite.

His headache had subsided significantly after the Advil and nap, but he could still feel a slight pressure.

Stiles knew it was most likely because of his interaction with his former pack members. He had been researching packs for years, and knew all the ins and outs of pack bonds.

Pack bonds weren’t a physical thing. Stiles had originally believed them to perhaps be something tangible through magic, like some sort of string that could be tugged on or used to communicate, but it was unfortunately less interesting than that.

Pack bonds were simply strong feelings that tied the members of a pack together. The closest analogy Stiles had been able to come up with was the WiFi connection between a router and device (of course that was his own idea of it, the many books he had read used explanations actually related to magic). The strongest bonds would be between alpha and beta, but all members were connected.

Even if bonds weren’t physical, they could still be broken. The only way a bond could be severed was if an alpha broke it, or if a beta chose to remove themselves from their pack. Bonds between betas could only be broken when a beta left a pack. Bonds could weaken, but the breaking of bonds had to be a conscious decision- although not necessarily one agreed upon by both parties.

Unfortunately, as with all magic, there were consequences, and particularly dire ones for the breaking of such a powerful and sacred force. It is possible for a bond break to be peaceful and painless. If both parties are amicable and agree to the separation, then a ritual can be performed. This will ensure that the member leaving will not have to deal with the pain of losing their pack, but also won’t have to deal with ties holding them back.

This was not the case for a bond split in any other way. The person who initiated the break would rarely feel anything other than a feeling of loss, but pain was ensured for the other party, regardless of if they accepted the break or not.

This was, of course, what Stiles would experience. Because, of the break, he would experience ailments ranging from headaches to nausea, and an empty feeling that would forever be present, until that void was fulfilled with pack bonds.

For an alpha, this wasn’t a concern, as long as they had other pack members, but rejected betas were essentially screwed. The longer one went with that void unfilled, the more the pain would grow, until eventually it would be strong enough to drive the person feral (it was unclear to Stiles whether this applied only to wolves, or if humans could also slowly lose their mind). This ache would of course be accompanied by mental pain. For some, that was anger, for others, it was loneliness. Eventually, all would feel despair, a depression that could only be cured with a pack.

The simple answer was to, of course, find a new pack. However, there’s the additional problem of the internal resistance to accepting a new pack, a defense mechanism forged out of fear of further rejection and isolation.

Of course, it was entirely possible to be okay. Most omegas found a new pack, and some even eventually found ways to cope with makeshift packs, free of the supernatural.

There were rules, though, either known or discovered, by anyone who lost a bond, about how to minimize the pain and survive. The most important one is to _move on_. Accept what happened, leave the territory, and avoid the pack as much as possible. This would not counteract the pain, but it would diminish it. And not following these rules could make the pain reach unbearable levels. Having to see one's former pack or be on their territory would amplify the feelings of loss and rejection, and worsen any physical symptoms.

Which put Stiles in a pretty shitty situation. He still was a high school student (although thankfully a senior), and he couldn’t just leave Beacon Hills at the drop of a hat. In fact, he had been planning on staying for a long time. The local community college wasn’t bad, and he would be able to stay near his dad and his pack.

It seemed that was no longer an option. Even if so far the pain was less intense than he had feared it would be, it had only been a couple of days, and he knew things would only get worse. He needed to get far away from the pack if he had any hope for keeping his mental health intact. Fortunately, there were a couple of out of state schools Stiles had been accepted to, having applied to many schools to make sure he was aware of all of his options. Perhaps making a decision on a far away school would be a helpful step in acceptance, and could help ease the pain for the last couple of months of high school when he would be forced to be near his ex-pack members.  
But that was a big decision, and not one Stiles was ready to make yet. So instead, he just attempted to go back to sleep.

~~~

Stiles had had a pretty bad week, but the next day was by far the worst.

It was destined to be a bad day from the start, since Stiles was exhausted. He seriously regretted his nap, as it had meant he was only able to get a couple of hours of sleep that night.

The day was made worse in second period, when Allison showed up. Her arm was in a sling and she had a slight limp, but it appeared that she was healing normally. She had most likely only taken the last two days off so no one would ask any questions about bruises (and because both Scott and Chris were both entirely overprotective of her).

Oddly, Allison gave him a small smile when she crossed the room. Still, she made no move to approach him, instead following the pack to their usual spots.

Erica had moved on from indifference to outright hostile glares. Lydia and Boyd both also looked unhappy, but just ignored him.

Stiles wasn’t particularly surprised. With Allison back, it probably reminded them of his fuck up. He still maintained it wasn’t his fault (even if he had a bit of nagging guilt), but he was sure they blamed him just like Scott did. After all, why wouldn’t they believe their alpha over someone who wasn’t even pack?

~~~

The next incident of his shitty day happened during lunch. Stiles once again sat by himself in the library, but was surprisingly approached by Isaac.

Stiles couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, but tried to hide the flurry of emotions he felt at being approached by a pack member. There was some resentment, knowing he partook in the abandonment, but there was the slightest flicker of hope. Stiles quickly extinguished it, but that small voice in his head still wondered if Isaac was here to say he wanted Stiles to be pack. Even just to hear any of the pack say that they disagreed, even if they weren’t willing to leave the pack over it, would have been nice.

Stiles stayed quiet when Isaac sat across from him, not having anything to say. Isaac seemed to realize that Stiles was staying silent, and he started talking.

“Hey, so, I was just kind of surprised yesterday. I guess I was just wondering… or wanted to ask… are you really leaving the team? Like, permanently?” he stumbled over his words, but managed to get the question out.

Stiles was too worried he would say something he’d regret if he opened his mouth, so he just nodded instead.

Isaac seemed to deflate a bit at that, looking weirdly dejected. “Oh, I thought… I just didn’t expect that really.”

Stiles scoffed. “What? Are you disappointed? It’s not like I was particularly vital to the team. All things considered, it was a pretty obvious decision.”

Isaac shrugged, looking down at the table. “I guess.”

Stiles was confused, but could feel some of that hope creeping back. “I mean, with everything going on with the pack, no one should be surprised. I mean, did you disagree with that decision?” Stiles kept his voice steely, refusing to show just how much he was hoping for Isaac to say yes.

Isaac looked up, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh,” he stuttered out, “I mean- well- I think- that wasn’t really my decision to make?” He winced, like he knew how inadequate that answer was.

Stiles steely resolve hardened. Of course that was Isaac's response. He was either saying that Stiles wasn’t important enough to him to defy his alphas, or that was just a diplomatic answer to avoid flat out saying that he was glad Stiles was gone.

Stiles had no idea why Isaac had approached him, but he was pissed. “Great, glad we’re on the same page. Now, go ahead and run off to _your_ pack. I’m sure you’re wanted there.” Stiles tried to hide how much it hurt to know that he wasn’t also wanted.

Isaac’s insecurity and worry was replaced with anger, and he glared openly at Stiles. “Fine, have fun on your own.”

Stiles glared at Isaac’s back as he walked away, and focused on not letting his tears fall.

~~~

The day ended with Allison approaching Stiles after school, something he had not been prepared for.

Stiles couldn’t help but be angry at her. He knew it wasn’t really her fault, but if she hadn’t been injured, then none of this would have been happening.

Nevertheless, he logically knew it wasn’t really her fault (hell, he didn’t even know if she had taken part in the decision for him to be kicked out, since she had been resting and healing the last couple of days), so he was determined to remain polite to her. Plus, he did feel a tiny bit bad about what had happened (Scott was still wrong, though).

“Hey,” she said, a small smile on her face.

Stiles chose to nod in response, hoping that was clear enough evidence that he didn’t want to talk without being outright rude.

She powered on, undeterred. “I just want you to know… I don’t blame you for what happened. I don’t know what all is going through your head, but don’t be too hard on yourself. This is just part of the supernatural life.”

Stiles honestly found he was more annoyed than anything. He didn’t blame himself, obviously it wasn’t his fault that there was a harpy attack. The apology honestly felt like when someone said “no offense,” trying to soften the blow but really just pointing out that they thought of what they were about to say as offensive. Stiles had shown no indication of guilt, so if she thought Stiles blamed himself, then clearly she thought that was the logical reaction in this situation. She was trying to act all compassionate, but really was just pointing out that he was in the wrong.

Would the pack not let him catch a break?

Stiles didn’t articulate any of this, instead just giving a tight-lipped smile.

This seemed to finally signal to Allison that he didn’t want to talk. She opened her mouth as if to say something more, but stopped herself and nodded instead. They maintained eye contact for a couple more awkward moments, before Stiles finally gave a small wave and walked away.

Stiles walked back to his Jeep, and when he got in the front seat, he leaned back and sighed. His headache had consistently remained throughout the day, and that interaction had only made it worse. All he wanted to do was go home and get more sleep.

When he finally got home, he got in bed for a (probably unwise) nap. As he drifted off, all he could wonder was why the pack couldn’t just leave him alone when they had been the ones to reject him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this has been so great! I mean, it hit 100 bookmarks and almost 400 kudos, and it hasn't even been a month! And I truly appreciate all of the comments, they make my day and always inspire me to write. I do want to say that I am not really responding to comments that have theories on the fic because I don't want to give anything away, but please don't let that stop you from sharing your ideas! Thanks y'all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles sees Derek for the first time in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late and I'm so sorry! This is shorter than usual and not much happens except a lot of angst but I wanted to show y'all that I haven't abandoned this story! Hope everyone still enjoys.

After his interactions with Allison and Isaac, the pack backed off. As the days dragged on, their glares became less frequent, and pretty soon it was as if he wasn’t there at all.

He had thought nothing could be worse than their hatred, but their indifference brought him to new lows. 

As the first week without the pack slipped into the second week, Stiles drew further into himself. He found he would go days without talking. He had no friends any longer, his teachers were grateful for his newfound silence, and his dad worked odd hours that meant he rarely was home at the same time as Stiles, and was sleeping if he was. With no interactions, no real purpose, Stiles felt as the days blurred together, and he went through life solely on habit. He’d find himself regularly checking the number of fingers on his hands, making sure that this was real, that he was real. 

He wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved every time he confirmed that he was.

The pain in his head became a dull ache, a chronic pain he soon became used to, almost unable to remember a time that it wasn’t there. Pretty soon he gave up on taking any painkillers. Human medicine was no match against supernatural forces. And there was a part of him that thought maybe he deserved the pain. With all of the headaches he had probably given all the people he had thought were his friends with his constant blabbering, perhaps it was a fitting punishment.

Besides, it was nice to feel something. 

~~~

Stiles had grown used to the pain he felt in the proximity of the pack. But when Stiles saw Derek for the first time since his removal, it was more like yearning.

It was the second weekend since he had been kicked out, and he had decided to get some fresh air. Although he felt his care for his own well-being diminish with every passing day, he still knew he needed to take care of himself. Even if he had little human interaction, he could still interact with nature, and hopefully that would help keep his sanity intact.

He had truly only meant to walk around the neighborhood, but he felt like nature was calling for him, and pretty soon he was walking toward the forest almost unconsciously. Without even realizing it, he had soon found himself in the preserve. 

He watched his feet as he wandered, making sure he didn’t trip and fall over any roots. The last thing he needed was more pain.

He was lost in his thoughts, thinking back on every mistake and blunder he had made, wondering where he had gone so wrong, when his reverie was interrupted by the sound of laughter.

His head snapped up and he’s immediately met with the sight of his former pack.

But what really caught his eye was one werewolf in particular. 

Derek.

Derek had his head thrown back as he laughed along with the rest of the pack while Isaac told a story with elaborate hand gestures.

The whole pack was there, even Peter. Seeing that hurt like a bitch, but it was Derek that Stiles was really focused on. 

It was weird. Seeing Derek made Stiles realize how little Stiles had thought about him the past couple weeks. In his efforts to avoid thinking about anything related to the pack, he hadn’t really considered that included Derek, the man who at one point consumed his thoughts. But now, all of those repressed feelings came rushing to the surface. 

He was as beautiful as ever. 

Stiles had always found Derek attractive, but he hadn’t always liked him. When they had first met, he had straight up thought he was a psychopathic murderer (which Stiles still felt a bit bad about, but the evidence was all there!). Over time, their relationship turned into a sort of mutually beneficial acquaintanceship (and not mutually beneficial in the fun way, more in the life-saving way, unfortunately). After Stiles lost count of the number of times they had saved each other’s lives, he realized that they could be considered friends.

That’s when his heart decided to be a dumbass.

Stiles’ feelings for Derek had developed so gradually that he hadn’t even realized they were there until he was halfway in love with him. It wasn’t the same as what he had felt for Lydia (which had been completely extinguished by the time they became friends). Sure, in the beginning Stiles had really “like liked” Lydia, but over time, he was ashamed to admit, she became more of a challenge, a prize to be won. In his quest to win her over, he had lost sight of her humanity, of all that had originally drawn him to her. His devotion to her was more about pride than anything close to “love.”

What he felt for Derek, on the other hand, was much more intense. Part of it was that Derek was so far out of his league (not to mention constantly annoyed with Stiles and probably straight) that the thought of him as attainable was laughable. There was no point trying to win a competition he wasn’t even qualified to be in. But there was also the fact that what he liked about Derek was much less superficial. Sure, Stiles would argue he was equally, if not more, attractive as Lydia, and to bag him would certainly do wonders to his ego. But he genuinely admired Derek. He saw how strong than man was (and no, not physically, even if those muscles did play a big role in many of his fantasies), how he never gave up, no matter how shitty his life continued to be. He saw how selfless and loyal he was, how he was willing to give up everything for those he cared about. He saw how much Derek had grown, even in the short time he had known him, untangling a complicated web of emotions and recognizing what fights were worth fighting. He saw how Derek had lost everything, repeatedly, and still would continue to rebuild whatever pack he could manage. He saw how deeply he cared for his pack, how he would do anything for them. 

Standing in the forest, staring at Derek laughing with his pack, Stiles suddenly realized that didn’t include him.

The pain of realizing the man who was so important to him didn’t feel even remotely the same, that the loyalty and caring that Stiles so admired didn’t extend to Stiles himself, was perhaps the most pain Stiles had felt since Scott’s initial rejection.

It sent Stiles running, running from the pack as fast as he could, until eventually he could no longer hear them. He promptly bent over and hurled, only bile coming out. It made his throat burn, and he coughed until nothing remained, eventually collapsing to the ground. He wasn’t sure if it was the emotional pain, the physical pain, the running on an empty stomach or the vomiting that made him pass out, but everything went dark without his consent.

When he eventually came to, it was dusk. The sun was setting, and he realized he must have been out for hours. 

He had left his phone at home, and his directionless running had made him lost. He wandered for hours. He wasn’t sure how he powered through his pounding headache, or how he managed to survive alone in the woods after dark, but he eventually found the road that led to his street.

It was well after midnight by the time he made it home. The lights were all out, and he knew his dad was fast asleep. When he made it to his room, he checked his phone, knowing it was pointless. There were no messages.

No one had realized he was missing.

It was like he didn’t exist.

He decided he was better off alone after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments so far, they mean so much to me! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles talks to Jackson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took longer than I wanted (as always) and is shorter than I wanted but I only just started my winter break and also I'll explain some more in the end notes!

The first and only pack member to approach him in the following weeks was Jackson of all people. 

Stiles had honestly gotten used to being alone. Life didn’t stop just because he was having a shitty time, so he didn’t get to stop either. He continued doing the best he could in school. He would like to say that all the new free time actually helped him improve his grades, but the chronic pain and depression wasn’t really conducive for school work. Still, he hadn’t failed any of his classes yet, and since it was the last semester of his senior year, that was all that really mattered.

He had also started receiving acceptance (and rejection) letters from schools, which gave him something to focus on. His plan had always been to stay as close to Beacon Hills as possible, either go to a state school nearby or just stick to community college. Considering that supernatural activities had taken most of his time up in high school, he hadn’t had a lot of time for extracurricular activities and community service and all that good stuff colleges ate up (and although some tales from his school years would probably make for great essays, he was pretty sure they would be more likely to get him accepted to a psych ward than a university). With that in mind, he hadn’t really had very high hopes for being accepted to many places, and had been perfectly content to just plan to attend his local community college and continue to stay at home. Still, he had applied to various schools across the country to keep his options open. With how unpredictable his life had become, he had learned it was important to have as many contingency plans as possible.

He thanked God he had the foresight to do that, because now he was desperate to get as far away as possible from Beacon Hills. He hadn’t gotten into any of his reach schools, like MIT or Yale, but he was accepted to some out of state schools that had the programs he was interested in. One in particular offered him a full ride, and had the exact forensics program he was interested in. The fact that it was over 12 hours away was now just an added bonus. 

He had not yet accepted the offer, since he knew he still needed to speak to his dad about it, but in his heart, he had already made his decision. He knew there wasn’t much his dad could do to stop him, seeing as he would legally be an adult by the time he moved, but his relationship with his father was rocky enough as it was, and he didn’t want to do anything to further jeopardize that. 

Making that decision, even if unofficial, had actually been surprisingly helpful. He found that his aches dulled a bit, and sleep came easier, almost as if his body knew that it would soon be doing what it needed to do. Feeling how good it felt just to make that decision, he was ready to move out the day after graduation and never turn back, just to finally move on and be free of pain.

So Stiles was doing okay. He was coping and moving forward, and that was all he could really hope for at the moment.

But then Jackson had to interrupt his peace.

Jackson intercepted him after school. He was walking towards his jeep when a hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped, having not expected it (and having not had any physical touch in weeks). He flinched even harder when he turned around and saw who it was.

Jackson grimaced when Stiles flinched, and Stiles assumed that it was because Jackson thought Stiles was afraid of him, either from his days as a bully or his days as the kanima. Really, Stiles only flinched because seeing his former pack member sent a shock of pain through his entire body (the truth was that he hadn’t feared any of his packmates in years, understanding the importance of trust for a pack, although in hindsight he should have realized they were the ones with the most power to cause him pain), but he didn’t bother pointing that out.

Stiles groaned. “What do you want?” He genuinely had no idea why Jackson was stopping him. Jackson was the last person he could imagine asking him to come back or apologize for the pack’s behavior. If anything, he could really only imagine him rubbing it in. He hoped that wasn’t the case, though, he wasn’t sure he could take it.

Jackson collected himself, returning to his cocky persona he wore so effortlessly, and Stiles was reminded that it was just a facade. In fact, Stiles had at one point began to believe they could be friends one day, and good ones at that, their snarky personalities that caused so much conflict also having the ability to bring them together. When Stiles lost the pack, he hadn’t just lost what he had, but also what was yet to come. The realization stung, as did almost every thought about the pack Stiles had, but he had become a pro at shoving the emotions down. It was necessary to his survival.

“I know I’m technically supposed to be staying away from you, but I honestly think that’s bullshit. Everyone is being so overdramatic, and I think you can handle a brief conversation with me. So-”

Stiles had really thought for a hopeful moment that Jackson had been saying that he disagreed with the decision for Stiles to be kicked out of the pack, but he quickly understood that Jackson was really just saying he felt no need to respect Stiles’ wishes of being left alone while he dealt with the pain of the breaking of the bonds. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“I really appreciate that you are willing to be honest about the fact that you have no regard for my feelings, but if you’re just here to upset me, I think I’ll have to pass,” Stiles said, interrupting Jackson as he turned to leave. 

Jackson latched onto his arm again, this time not letting go. “Listen, I’m trying to help you, so just stop being a pussy, okay?”

Stiles scoffed, but stayed silent.

Jackson sighed in relief, clearly taking this as acquiescence. “There’s a new creature in town, and we haven’t been able to defeat it. We don’t even know what it is. There have already been two bodies, and Erica and Boyd both got injured last night while patrolling the area. Derek didn’t recognize the scent, Lydia hasn’t found anything in her research, and Peter is MIA so we’re at a dead end.”

“And why are you telling me this?” Stiles asked, even as his mind raced with possibilities of what could be wreaking havoc and he wondered if Erica and Boyd were okay (even though he really wished he didn't care). 

“Because, as much as it pains me to admit it, you are the best bet we have. You can get access to your dad’s files, and you’re the best researcher we know.”

“Okay, better question, why would I help you?”

Jackson looked thrown off by this question, as though he hadn’t expected the possibility that Stiles would say no. “Uh, because lives are on the line? To protect yourself? And, I don’t know, maybe to protect the people who used to be your family?”

Stiles wasn’t sure if Jackson intended it as such, but calling the pack the people who “used to be” his family felt so needlessly cruel. It was as if he was pointing out just how much Stiles had lost, and it hurt like a bitch. But more than that, it made him angry.

He jerked himself out of Jackson’s grip. “I don’t owe you or your stupid pack shit. You all have seemed to be perfectly fine thus far, so I’m sure you can figure it out. This isn’t my fucking responsibility, so how about you just respect my wishes like everyone else has and leave me the fuck alone, alright?”

Stiles stomped away, but he pauses when he hears Jackson call his name. It’s tinged with desperation in a way he didn’t even realize Jackson was capable of expressing, that he can’t help but stop.

“I know you’re hurting right now, and I know you don’t want to be around us, but I also know you still care about us, because that’s just the type of person you are. And even if you don’t care about us, I know you care about this town, and nothing will change that. The people who have died so far didn’t deserve it, and there shouldn’t be anymore deaths because of this supernatural bullshit. I know you agree. So please, just consider helping.”

Stiles is breathing heavily by the end of Jackson’s speech. The words fill him with righteous anger, and he finds himself torn between wanting to scream at fate for all of the pain that has been brought upon this town, or run away and never look back. Even so, he knows the words that come out of his mouth are inevitable.

“Text me what you know. I’ll see what I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am honestly struggling quite a bit with writing about the supernatural. I really wanted to include more in this chapter, but I keep changing my mind about what happens next (I know how the fic ends, it's just getting there that is difficult, especially since I've never written about the supernatural in depth), so I decided to go ahead and update with what I was sure about. Let me know if in the future I should stick to longer chapters with longer waits, someone mentioned that the last update was a bit short so I don't want to let anyone down with the length of these chapters.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for the comments and messages so far! They truly mean so much to me and are what inspire me to write! If you liked this chapter, please let me know, nothing motivates me like praise lol. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles does some research.

Jackson texted him a couple of hours after Stiles got home, presumably after lacrosse practice. The message included no greeting or thanks, nothing other than concise details about the victims, and Stiles wasn’t sure if he was more grateful or hurt. He certainly wasn’t surprised, though.

Jackson clearly wasn’t lying when he had said they were at a dead end. There was almost no information for Stiles to work with. 

The two bodies had very few similarities. One was a 23-year-old man, the other a 47-year-old woman. The man had been reported missing after his roommates hadn’t seen him for 3 days. He was last seen at a club. The woman never showed up home after work one day, and her husband immediately contacted the authorities. He was found with his throat slashed. She was found with her chest cavity torn open. 

Their only similarity was that they were found in the preserve within two weeks of each other. That and their scent. They knew they had the same scent because the sheriff had begun inviting Derek to check out the bodies whenever there was a suspected homicide ever since he found out about the supernatural. 

(Stiles was trying desperately hard not to think about the fact that that meant his father and Derek had seen more of each other in the past two weeks than he had seen either of them).

Unfortunately, Derek hadn’t recognized the scent either time, meaning all they knew was that it was supernatural, and it was the same creature each time. 

Apparently, Derek had started having the pack do nightly patrols after the first death, but only had encountered the creature the night before Jackson came to Stiles. 

It had been Erica and Boyd’s night to patrol. Evidently, they had been together but decided to separate to investigate when they had heard a noise. 

Next thing Boyd had known, he had heard a grunting noise from Erica. He had run to her, only to find her on the ground having what appeared to be a seizure. She was in beta shift, and Boyd had received pretty deep scratches from her claws as he tried to carry her back to the pack house, not sure what to do. 

It was an hour until Erica had recovered, and she hadn’t even remembered patrolling, let alone what caused her seizure. 

Evidently, all of that had been enough for Jackson to feel the need to reach out to Stiles. 

Stiles wasn’t sure if that was more owing to Jackson’s care for the pack or his lack of care for Stiles’ boundaries. 

Whatever the reason, it presented Stiles with a very difficult situation (and a nasty headache). 

Not only did he have no idea what was killing people, but he also wasn’t even sure how to help or if he should. 

The main problem was that he didn’t want anything to do with the supernatural or the pack at this point. He was becoming a pro at blocking out any thoughts about his ex-friends, and doing research for them- even without contact- would make forgetting about them near impossible. It would be like losing all of his progress 

However, he also knew that he would never forgive himself if somebody else died and he didn’t try to help, especially if it was someone he knew personally, and especially if it was his dad, who would inevitably be more involved in this than most due to his position as the sheriff. And even if he chose not to assist, he would spend all his time wondering if he was making a mistake, which would of course make him think about the pack and likely lead to just as bad of a headache, only with added guilt. 

In conclusion, Jackson had thoroughly fucked him by introducing the issue to him. The quicker he got all of this over with, the quicker he could get them off his mind. 

So he knew he would try to help. Which led to the next problem. He didn’t have any jurisdiction in the supernatural world now that he was packless, and would need express approval from the highest ranked supernatural creature in this territory, which in this case would be the alpha(s) of the land. The punishment for doing so without permission could range anywhere from banishment (which didn’t sound that bad, but would make things difficult for his dad) to death (which at this point honestly also didn’t sound that bad, but, once again, he was thinking of how hard it would be for his dad).

He didn’t think Derek or Scott would actually kill him if he broke the rules (although they seemed fine putting him through psychological torture, so who knows), but he also knew that packs could appear weak if they didn’t enforce rules, which would make the territory even more vulnerable. Meaning either he would be hurt, or Beacon Hills would be, and at this point, he felt they had both already withstood too much. 

That meant he needed to ask either Derek or Scott for permission (he honestly could not think of two people he wanted to approach less) or give the information directly to Jackson and hope the pack was relieved enough about getting their answers to not think about the fact that Jackson had never willingly done research in his life. 

Although, he was probably getting ahead of himself. He still had no idea what they were looking for. He couldn’t go to the pack for more info (or, at least, he wasn’t willing to), he didn’t want to try to exploit any of his dad’s resources and risk getting in trouble when he hadn’t even yet told his dad about his college plans yet, and he had returned all of Deaton’s books weeks ago. All he had left was the bestiary, which he had thankfully digitized and translated with Lydia over summer break. That, and the entirety of the internet, which could be both a blessing and a curse. 

After spending an hour in bed contemplating what he should do about this clusterfuck of a situation Jackson had forced him into, he decided the best course of action was to try to just see what he could figure out. 

He went to his desk and got to work. 

~~~

Stiles awoke at his desk in pain.

The first thing he felt was a pounding headache, the very thing that had led to Stiles shutting his eyes during his research, even though he had learned long ago that it was a very bad idea to sleep at his desk.

He had learned it was a bad idea because of back pain and the crick in his neck it always caused, which he was now feeling acutely.

He got up with a groan and when he saw it was well after midnight, walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. 

He popped a couple more painkillers than was technically advised and thought about the headway he had made so far. It wasn’t much. The murders had both been brutal but used different techniques, and there wasn’t even a hint of if there was a weapon used or not (well, as far as Stiles knew- he was beginning to fear that he might have to try to use some of his dad’s resources after all).

The main hint was Erica’s seizure, but even that wasn’t particularly helpful. She had also seized when she had been paralyzed by the kanima, so there was no way to know if it was the result of her pre-lycanthropy health issues or a unique power the creature had over anyone.

He considered attempting more research, but decided against it. Even if he didn’t have school the next day (thank god Jackson at least had the decency to give him this info on a Friday), he knew he was too exhausted and in pain to get any more done that night.

He missed the days when Derek would sneak into his room and demand updates on his research. Even if it wasn’t exactly his ideal fantasy for what he and Derek could be doing in his bedroom, he had enjoyed conversing with Derek, having someone to bounce ideas off of and sort out his thoughts. Plus, Derek would always begrudgingly take away his pain would Stiles inevitably feel, whether that was eye strain or muscle strain or a supernatural related injury flaring up. Stiles could really use some of that werewolf mojo now.

Stiles pushed that thought out of his head when he felt a flash of pain jolt through his whole body. This stupid research was already bringing back memories of the pack, and he couldn’t have that. He needed to just get some rest and then get this over with.

Stiles stumbled to bed after using the restroom and brushing his teeth. He peeled off his jeans but couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas.

When he got to his room, he got the distinct feeling of eyes on him, but he ignored it.

That feeling had become a common occurrence. There were many nights Stiles thought he could feel someone watching him through his bedroom window. Whenever he checked, though, there was nothing there. The first couple of times he had actually gone outside to check, but each incidence it had proven futile. 

He never really felt afraid when he felt it, and he wasn’t sure if that was his lack of self-preservation or something else. 

He knew that most likely, there was nobody out there, that it was all in his head. And if there was, it was probably a supernatural creature planning its attack, considering his luck, and if that was the case, there wasn't much he could do about it. 

But when he felt especially alone, he liked to imagine that it was someone that cared, a guardian or someone from the pack, keeping an eye on him to make sure he was okay. If it was all his imagination, then he just appreciated that his mind was trying to do something nice for him for once, rather than the usual torment. 

That night, like always, he didn’t close the curtains. He just tried to turn off his thoughts and sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was okay! I wanted to reveal what the creature was but then decided I wanted to see if anyone had any guesses so it will instead be revealed in the next chapter. I'll give a hint. The creature is on Teen Wolf, BUT I am writing based on actual mythology/legend/research rather than what was shown on the show. Also let me know if you think there's someone watching Stiles, or if the poor boy is just going crazy.
> 
> As always, comments mean the world to me! Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I would really like to know what everyone thinks so far! Comments are definitely my greatest motivator, and kudos are always appreciated. The next chapter is already written, and just need some editing, so I hope to post it soon!


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